


His Lass

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Series: Just Say Lass [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Male Solo, Masturbation, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pining, Sexual Fantasy, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 06:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: Stuck alone in Griffon Wing Keep, Rylen has to take matters into his own hand.





	His Lass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gugle1980](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gugle1980/gifts).



> From a Tumblr prompt from [Gugle1980](http://gugle1980.tumblr.com/) to see Rylen take care of things while away from Abigail.

“What now, Bobert?”

“S-Ser, a raven came – you were busy, so I – I thought I’d bring it to you.”

Rylen holds out a hand for the rolled parchment, and when he sees the wax on the scroll he finds himself glad that it’s still sealed.

“Thank you, Bobert,” he nods and clears his throat.

The young man in front of his desk scratches his chin, not making any immediate moves to depart. Heaving a deep sigh Rylen rests his elbows on his desk and glares pointedly at him.

“Is there something else?”

“N-no, Ser -”

“Then you’re dismissed,” he shakes his head as he watches young Bobert hop to and salute before he hurries out of the office as if the Lieutenant shouted at him.

For a moment Rylen stares after him, and then he glances down at the scroll in his hand. With that wax seal, he knows who it’s from. It’s been dark outside the windows for hours now, and he rolls his tongue around his mouth and over his teeth as he considers.

He’ll be retiring soon anyway – there won’t be any new work tonight unless something goes horribly wrong.

Although he remembers that Petyr is on the patrol for the night, which means that all of Griffon Wing Keep could fall into disorder and chaos at any moment.

Before it does, though – he should have some time to read her letter. And knowing his Abigail –

He should lock the door.

Pushing back his chair so that it scrapes along the stone floor, he stands and stretches before he crosses the office to bolt the wooden portal. It would be just his luck to be interrupted – since he came to the Western Approach, hardly anything has gone right.

_Bad enough to be away from my lass – but to be stuck in this desert, with bumbling recruits and never-ending mishaps and dangers all around –_

His thoughts begin to blacken and he shakes his head to clear his mind. He’s holding a letter from her – he shouldn’t be thinking about how much he hates this blasted assignment.

Setting her letter on the bed he begins to strip out of his armor finally, ready to settle in for the night and be done with his duties. Sleeping hasn’t been as easy, not without her small body curled in his arms – but he keeps telling himself that soon he’ll be home. And in the meantime – he can keep fighting to protect her, even from a distance.

When he’s down to his shirt and breeches he blows out most of the candles, carrying one to set beside his bed, and then he strips down fully. The cool air wafting in from the windows caresses his skin and he feels it prickle and tighten in response.

It makes him think of how he feels when she drags her fingers over his skin, tracing the tattoo lines on his biceps with her soft, cold fingers. The look she gets in her chocolate eyes – soft love, mischievous desire – like she knows what she’s doing to him and is trying to goad him into a reaction.

He loves that look – playful, coy, seductive – it always makes his heart race, his soul feel like it’s catching on fire. Shaking himself a little he settles back against the pillows on his bed, his half-hard cock evidencing how much he’s already anticipating her letter.

 

_Ry,_

_I know usually I let you know what I’ve been doing, how things are going – but things are the same. I wake up, I prepare the tavern, Cabot grumbles at me when he arrives, soldiers get too rowdy – and stay that way all day. And then when I’m done serving the Inquisition, I close up and retire alone – in a bed that’s suddenly too big, with sheets that are too cold. Some days I manage to see Evelyn if she's here, some days I bother Cullen for news of you, and others I grab a drink with Dorian or Varric._

_But none of that compares to seeing you smile at me._

_I can’t stop thinking about you – every time I close my eyes I see your smirk, your baby blues – it’s all too much._

_I miss you._

_It takes me forever now to fall asleep – I’ve been so desperate for you, so keen for your touch – I can’t explain it. It’s the worst timing that suddenly all I can think about is everything I want you to do to me, all day – it’s an insatiable longing. Maybe it’s the separation, I don’t know – all I know is that I can’t stop thinking about you and how much I want you._

_I keep thinking about those last few days before you left and how desperate we were for one another. The time you took me against the wall is a particularly fond memory – but I keep thinking about that last morning too. It almost reminded me of the first time, when you made love to me and whispered such sweet things in my ear. You moved so tenderly, but I swear since that first moment I’ve felt possessed, like you left a mark on my very soul._

_And of course now I really can’t stop thinking about you. I wish you were here, I just want you so much, every waking moment of the day – and every moment in the Fade as well. My fingers aren’t enough right now, stud. I’m aching for you, for the sound of your breath in my ear and your hoarse whispers of my name. And the times you call me a good lass – I’m near to coming right now just remembering it. It sends shivers down my spine and makes my knees weak, leaving me desperate and positively useless until I’ve felt your cock inside me._

_At least I can feel some satisfaction thinking that you must feel the same, that you lie awake in that keep and think of me. I wish I could see it, I wish I could be there to warm your bed and destroy that office of yours with our lovemaking. Maybe eventually I can convince Cullen to let me join you – and then we won’t have to spend so much time with just our hands._

_For some reason I’m now both crying and yet also desperate for you, so I think I should stop writing. I look forward to your next letter, but even more I look forward to the day we’re reunited. I hope it’s soon, so I can lie in your arms again and feel you deep inside me as if we’re one. Come back to me safe and sound, Ry – you promised._

_Always Your Lass,_

_Abigail_

When he finishes reading he can’t help but smile, looking over the lines, the curves of her writing. He pictures her hand forming the lines – her small, delicate hand, the one he loves to feel caressing his skin.

He misses her too – more than he could adequately tell her. He’s a man of actions, not words, and he knows his letters to her are lacking in comparison. Despite how lonely she sounds, how desperately she seems to miss him, he’s still aroused by her longing, by the insatiable lust she hinted at.

Closing his eyes he pictures her, the smirk she gives that tells him she’s about to show how much he means to her, that she’s about to focus on him. He’s fully hard now, thinking about that first time just like she was, thinking about the time right before he left.

His hand is rough, calloused, larger than hers – but for now it will have to do. Taking himself in hand he groans, trying to imagine it’s hers instead. It’s been too long since it was, and the image he tries to conjure in his mind is of her, naked and teasing him.

She would trail her tongue over his tattoos – he loves when she does that, the gleam she gets in her eye. He imagines her lips stretched around him, taking him into her mouth and down her throat – and he begins to stroke himself slowly as he conjures the fantasy.

He thinks too of the many times he’s taken her, the sweet way she moans and responds to him. Abigail, wild and free, belonging to no one – but she’s his when she’s in his arms, when he’s buried deep inside of her. He groans when he thinks about the heaven she feels like, tight and wet around him – and he increases the speed he’s stroking himself with, swirling his thumb over his tip to spread the excitement that’s already leaking.

Even just the memory of his lass drives him crazy – he already feels close to the edge. Picturing her astride him, the way she bites her lip when he hits her sweet spot, the way she cries his name – he groans hers as pleasure pools in his belly. He’s panting, clenching his eyes shut, stroking faster as the sound of his hand moving quickly up and down his hard shaft fills the silence of the room.

He thinks of her smile, of the way she calls him a crazy fool – the look in her chocolate eyes when she says it, and he trembles as he calls out her name. His release hits him, coating his taut belly with a sticky white mess, but his mind is filled with the vision and sensation of finishing deep within her like he loves to do.

For a while he lays still, wishing he had her in his arms, holding her to him as they both come down from their shared euphoria. He loves those tender moments, the moments when she’s soft and loving, when she curls against him, letting herself be vulnerable and needy for him.

The moments when he can tell she loves him, more than anything.

Instead he sighs and reaches over for something to clean himself off with, so that he can try to get some rest – even though it won’t be as deep and soothing without her.

He glances at her letter and sees the last line, and he smirks.

_Come back to me safe and sound, Ry – you promised._

_Aye, lass – I’ll be home soon, Maker willing._


End file.
